Ripples
by Ayla Pascal
Summary: Merlin has his happily-ever-after with Arthur, but he can't help but think about the past and what could have been. Merlin/Arthur


**Author Notes**: Written for merlin_holidays. Thank you to emerald_dragon8 for the beta!

If Merlin thinks back on his life, which is something he's been doing quite a bit ever since he's become old (sometimes, Merlin wonders just how he managed to stay alive for the last sixty odd years), Merlin realises that there were a few moments, a few key turning points, where everything could have changed. Like a skipped syllable in a spell, those moments could have turned out differently, rippling changes through time like a causal nexus.

No.

It's more like a stone thrown into the centre of a still pool of water. Merlin remembers one lazy summer afternoon with Arthur, sitting next to a lake, talking, kissing... But he's getting ahead of himself. Without the précis, there is no story. Without the cause, there is no effect. If Merlin had never journeyed to Camelot, never met Arthur, then the rest of the story would never have happened.

Merlin often thinks back and wonders what would have happened if things had been different, if one of those moments had been twisted, shaped differently.

The first moment, of course, is his journey into Camelot. Sometimes, even now, Merlin is surprised that it was so unadventurous. He was so young, so unaware back then, that it's a miracle that bandits didn't attack him. He still remembers the bright look in his eyes, the way he swung his arms and the bubbling anticipation in his heart when he saw the city. It shone out like a bright jewel in the countryside. Even back then, Merlin knew that his future was in Camelot. He just didn't know how important Camelot was going to become to him. He didn't know how much his future would be tied up with that of Arthur Pendragon's.

Merlin knows the second moment was when he first met Arthur. Back then, he knew with utmost certainty that Arthur was an arrogant bastard. There was something infuriating about the way Arthur used to order him around.

("Get my armour, Merlin! Why isn't it polished?")

Those days are long past.

A fond smile crosses Merlin's face as he looks over at Arthur. Arthur's still an arrogant bastard at times, but the years have mellowed some of his sharp corners. Sometimes, Arthur still orders him around, but all Merlin has to do is wave his hand to fetch Arthur a drink. They have servants for everything else nowadays.

Merlin reaches over and fondly brushes a lock of greying hair from Arthur's temples, and Arthur smiles.

"Love you," Merlin whispers. Sometimes, he still can't believe that all his dreams have come true. It all worked out better than the dragon predicted.

The last important moment is etched in Merlin's mind. If he's honest with himself, Merlin knows that this is the key moment. It's the moment where everything changed. Merlin's turned the moment around and around in his mind in the years since. He could have put a comforting hand on Arthur's shoulder and told him not to worry, that Gwen loved him, that they were going to live happily ever after. It's what he'd thought he should have done.

If he had done that, perhaps he wouldn't have stumbled and ended up sprawled across Arthur. Perhaps his lips wouldn't have ended up desperately seeking Arthur's and Arthur wouldn't have tugged him down onto the bed like he was a lifeline. Perhaps his shirt wouldn't have torn when Arthur tugged it off impatiently. Perhaps he wouldn't have mumbled into Arthur's ear, told Arthur to pull down his trousers so that Merlin could do what he had been dreaming about doing for months. Perhaps ... Merlin thinks he could drown himself in maybes.

Merlin licks his lips. He still feels a stirring when he remembers that day, the way Arthur's cock felt in his mouth for the first time, the way Arthur's skin felt underneath his fingers. It was the moment where Arthur stopped saying Gwen and started saying Merlin. But, of course, he knows that Arthur was thinking Merlin long before that day.

It was a hurried, almost furtive act, nothing like the long, slow, languorous hours they took in the weeks after. That morning was something different; it was months, years in the making. It was the culmination of every single look, every single breath-catching moment, every single stray touch and every single time when Merlin had looked over at Arthur and wondered if they could be something more.

Merlin smiles.

There's only one dark cloud over their happiness. One small rain cloud blowing in from the horizon. One small whispering voice at the back of his mind telling him that it should have been different and that Arthur was never his.

After all, the dragon said it wouldn't happen this way.

Merlin's fingers tremble as he moves away from Arthur and picks up his staff. He can see Arthur standing by the window, strong and brave, a leader Camelot can be proud of. They've built this kingdom together. It's flourished under their love. It isn't what was predicted, but that doesn't mean anything. The people are happy and satisfied; the land is at peace.

Savagely, Merlin slams his staff into the ground. He's learned control over the years; the ground only cracks slightly. So what if this wasn't meant to happen? So what if his dreams are haunted by the glitter in Morgana's eyes from over fifty years past? So what if he can see Gwen ascending the throne, all smiles, with Arthur's hand in her own? The past is history, immutable and unchangeable history.

Except, Merlin knows that isn't quite true.

He can change the past. He can shape it in his hands so that Arthur marries Gwen (as he was supposed to, a small voice whispers), so that they never crossed the line from being master and servant to something much, much more. He can bring history back to the path it was supposed to take.

The dragon still visits him at times. It's silent but Merlin can see the question in its eyes, the silent accusation.

Merlin knows he chose this road, and most of the time, Merlin thinks that it's the right one. There were sacrifices along the way, but they were necessary. The only one Merlin regrets is Gwen. She was caught up in the middle of something she had no business being a part of. Merlin closes his eyes and leans heavily on his staff. He can still save her. He can still save everybody.

After all, he's lived his life with Arthur. He's had his happily-ever-after.

Merlin steps up behind Arthur.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Arthur says, without turning around. His voice is that of an old man and Merlin's throat tightens. This moment's also been a long time coming. This was never meant to happen. Not like this.

Merlin knows what he needs to do. It breaks his heart to shatter the beautiful life they've built together, but this was never supposed to be.

"Yes," Merlin agrees. He leans over to kiss Arthur lightly on the lips. "It is beautiful." He's been selfish long enough. It's time to return history to the right path, where Gwen is on the throne beside Arthur and he's nothing more than their trusted advisor. "This will happen again. You'll bring Camelot to this golden age again. I promise."

Arthur half-turns around, a questioning look in his eyes, but Merlin's already swung his staff around. It arcs around them, while Merlin murmurs the words underneath his breath. His fingers clench tightly around the staff.

The world shimmers around them and rights itself.

Time whirls around them, and Merlin can feel everything settling back to how it was, how it was always meant to be. There's almost a comfortable hum in the air, as though the world's happier now. It's almost as though their future – his future with Arthur – never happened.

Stretching, Merlin feels almost catlike as he revels in how young his body feels. His hands are those of a young man, with smooth supple skin and nary an age spot to be seen. Looking up, Merlin inhales sharply as he sees Gwen walking up to Arthur, her dress flowing behind her. Her radiant look only falters slightly as she passes Lancelot.

Merlin closes his eyes.

All is as it should be.

-fin


End file.
